


The Arrangement

by AVegetarianCannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, hannigram implied, not crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 10:52:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13902513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: Hannibal is a model inmate at the BSHCI, but he does have a few requests.





	The Arrangement

At first, Alana is surprised that Hannibal has given the staff absolutely no grief about the food. He eats the reconstituted eggs and cold oatmeal and drinks the coffee without a word of complaint. 

Of course, it makes sense once she thinks about it. He wouldn’t let on that anything was bothering him because it would give people power over him. If he didn’t learn that before Will Graham, he knows it now.

So he always thanks whoever brings his meals, and never fails to say something pleasant. Even the most hardened, cynical staff can’t help but respond just as pleasantly, after a while. Alana notices that Hannibal always asks about Robbie White’s dogs, and seems genuinely moved to hear that Didi, his husky mix, nearly died of bloat. “I’m relieved she pulled through,” Hannibal tells Robbie, and sounds like he means it. Then he thanks Robbie for bringing a peanut butter sandwich for lunch that day, and waits until he’s alone to empty the packet of generic chips into the toilet.

A few weeks later, Alana catches fresh fruit going into Hannibal’s holding area. An apple here, a small cluster of grapes there. It’s different every day. She stops a worker named Maryanne one day before she has a chance to go in.

“I could have sworn I approved fruit cups,” Alana says.

Maryanne blushes and stammers a bit before finding her voice. “He–he pointed out an orange doesn’t cost any more than pre-packaged fruit salad, and…and…”

“And what?” Alana prompts.

“It’s better for the environment,” Maryanne says. “H-he kind of has a point.”

Alana calls a staff meeting the next morning.

“Hannibal Lecter would kill you if he were trying to escape and you simply got in his way,” she says without preamble. “However friendly, however _charming_ he is with you when you bring his meals or his clean uniform, you must remember you mean nothing to him. He is polite to you because it serves him.”

Robbie White holds up his hand. “He says it costs nothing to be civil towards one’s fellow man, but rudeness is a debt that’s difficult to repay.”

“He killed and ate people he thought were rude,” Alana says flatly. “That’s how they paid their debt.”

Robbie lowers his hand and says nothing else. The special fruit deliveries stop after that—for a while.

Alana soon notices that Hannibal is getting a boiled egg and wheat toast every morning, with a pat of butter and a glass of orange juice. She stops Maryanne on the fourth morning and lifts the glass to her nose for a sniff.

“Why is he getting fresh-squeezed orange juice?” she asks. “I said at the meeting—”

“Dr. Chilton ordered it,” Maryanne says. “He told the kitchen that it’s a new condition of Dr. Lecter’s plea agreement.”

Alana sets her jaw and takes the tray in herself, making sure the outer doors are shut behind her.

“Good morning, Alana,” Hannibal says from his bed. He’s reading a book she knows she didn’t approve. “I imagine you’ve heard about Frederick.”

“He doesn’t work here anymore,” she says. “So why is he telling the staff to feed you better than everyone else?”

“He was worried about my nutrition,” Hannibal says, chipper for a man in a cage. “He realized if my mouth isn’t full, it may come down with a case of chattiness. Who knows what I might say?”

Alana wills herself to keep calm, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her riled. She doesn’t have to ask if there’s even been a new plea agreement. Whatever agreement’s been struck is entirely between Hannibal and Chilton.

She pushes his tray into the slim opening of his cell. “Enjoy it,” she says before turning on her heel. “Tomorrow you’re back on the same diet everyone else gets.”

“With a few exceptions,” he calls after her.

She stops just before she gets to the doors and sighs. “What exceptions? I’m not Chilton, Hannibal.”

“I should like to cook once a week,” Hannibal says. He’s gotten out of bed and stands in front of his cell wall, hands behind his back, rocking back on his heels like a giddy child. “You may continue to feed me powdered eggs to your heart’s content, but once a week I’ll decide the menu and I will be the one to prepare it.”

She laughs before she can stop herself. “Is this part of your insanity plea? You’d have to be delusional if you think I’d agree to that.”

He ignores her. “I would like to cook fresh eel first. Have you ever had eel, Alana? I hear it was one of Mason Verger’s favorites.”

That stops the laughter in her throat. She feels like she could choke on the sudden, seething anger that bubbles up inside her. She digs her nails into the palms of her hands to keep from grabbing the nearest object and smashing it against the wall.

Hannibal goes on. “You will bring me a camping stove or something of the like, and whatever cookware or utensils I require—adapted to prison life, of course. It would be unreasonable of me to expect you to bring me a cleaver or—”

“Will Graham is never coming back for you,” she spits. “ _Never_.”

The arrow doesn’t land. Hannibal only smiles at her. “I can recommend a superb fishmonger, if you’d like. Eel _must_ be pristinely fresh.” 

She leaves. Staying a second longer would do nothing to serve her, and only amuse him all the more. She curses herself for even bringing up Will Graham’s name, not least because she knows it might be wishful thinking on her part. She also knows already she’s going to give Hannibal what he wants. She has a wife and new baby waiting for her at Muskrat Farms. She’ll stop on the way home to buy the stove, and pick up the eel first thing in the morning.


End file.
